


Clouds Beyond The Branches

by Elke Tanzer (elke_tanzer)



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode Tag Torchwood 1x05 Small Worlds, F/M, Jack Harkness Ficathon, Romance, Schmoop, twdw_ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-11
Updated: 2007-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elke_tanzer/pseuds/Elke%20Tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack met Estelle in London shortly before Christmas, 1941, and fell in love, but Estelle was most at home in the country.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clouds Beyond The Branches

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Jack Harkness Ficathon twdw_ficathon. But OMFG why can I not seem to get Jack out of his pants? Seriously... this ended up rated G of all things. Aiiiyiyiyi. Apparently I have lost contact with my inner pornographer, because this bit of romantic nostalgia popped out instead of teh hawt pr0n I was rather much expecting.

"Only you, my darling Estelle, would want to go on a picnic in the middle of winter."

In the warmth of the Astoria, between dances, only two weeks since he'd first introduced himself, taken her hand and twirled her onto the floor for the first time, he'd asked her what she'd most like in the world for Christmas. She'd asked, of all things, for a country picnic. He'd shaken his head at her, kissed her hand, and tried to decide if he could manage to somehow indulge her.

She'd simply graced him with a small smile, her cheeks flushed from dancing and with a twinkle in her eye, "Do you mean to tell me, Captain Harkness, that you'd deny a simple Christmas wish? That's bad luck, you know."

"Well, we wouldn't want to start the new year out with bad luck hanging over our heads, would we?" he'd asked, trying to hedge but with that one glance deciding then and there that somehow, he was going to have to make it happen. He'd have to arrange transportation, and the fuel, that would be the trickiest part, but he had a few luxury items he could arrange to trade...

She'd twined her slim fingers between his own larger ones, and turned to step into the curve of his arm, tucking herself neatly under his shoulder. "Oh, no, we couldn't have that."

He'd squeezed her shoulder briefly, but the musicians had chosen that moment to strike up the next dance tune. Estelle had given a small startle of delight, and she'd spun away from him until only their fingertips had been touching, her skirt softly flaring. He'd lost himself in her enthusiasm, letting her joy and the beat of the music carry them both twirling into the rhythm.

That had been nearly a week ago. He'd borrowed a motorcycle from one of his fellow officers who'd grown up in London, bundled the warmest coats he could find around them both, and taken her past the city outskirts to the country. Her hands fit snugly around his waist, her fingers tucked between the buttonholes of his coat to keep warm. Her weight at his back was a comfortable distraction.

The second time he'd paused in their journey, a gust of cold wind lashing at his face as he stopped to turn at a crossroads, he had half-turned to look at her over his shoulder, and asked again, "Are you warm enough? Do you want to call the whole thing off and go back where we could eat out of the wind and the chill?"

She laughed her sparkling laugh at him, taking one of her hands from around his waist to tuck an errant curl behind her ear. She had been beautiful at the Astoria, but she was stunning out here, windblown and with a heartfelt grin across her face. "Oh, no! It would be bad manners to try to return a Christmas gift, especially one so glorious as spending time with you, Jack. Besides, it'd be bad luck!"

Jack knew he couldn't refuse her, so he shook his head again and drove on. Their luck really was holding; the day was grey and slightly blustery at times, but they'd had no fresh snow or sleet, and the pale sun was occasionally peering down through gaps in the clouds. For a winter's day, it was remarkably temperate.

Not much further along he spotted a decently-sized stand of trees between two fields, so he parked the bike and turned to help her dismount. Estelle was already a few steps away, though, reaching with deft fingers to gently touch the bark of the nearest young larch. She tilted her head back to watch the branches above bending slightly in the wind, then turned back to him, eyes alight and face more shining with happiness than he'd yet seen, and she had been happy just to dance with him whenever they'd managed to meet up at the Astoria. "Oh, Jack, thank you. I do love London, but I've missed this..."

He answered her smile with one of his own. "I'm not usually a country gentleman, you know, but for you, I'll make the exception. Let me just get the stove set up..." He'd brought one of the new pocket stoves from America, the latest combination of wartime technological demands and Yankee ingenuity. He had the small pot of water boiling for tea in little time, as Estelle explored a bit and then chose to set out the blanket in the space beneath one of the larger trees. She set about slicing the dark bread and cheese and was finished just as the tea was ready. They sat down easily on the blanket, eating, drinking, and lying back to point out shapes in the clouds to each other. As the meal dwindled, they took turns feeding each other the last choice tidbits, and Jack realized that if it weren't for the cold, he'd likely happily stay on this blanket, under this sky, forever.

He'd had to call in a lot of favors and do some complex bartering, but it was all entirely worth the effort just to see Estelle, darling, beautiful Estelle, her hair slipping free of its own accord and tickling his neck, her cheeks pink and smile brilliant, relaxed beneath the oak branches and not minding the winter's cold one bit.

She turned, catching him staring, but didn't look away bashfully as most girls... women, he corrected himself, her age would have. Instead, she just smiled, her emotion plain and uncomplicated.

The sun chose that moment to break through the clouds with some strength, and she was simply so attractive that he bent toward her almost without realizing what he was doing. When he did realize, he paused, but she blinked once, her smile unfaltering, and simply said, "Captain Jack Harkness, you'd better kiss me right now. There's mistletoe up in that poplar. Didn't you notice, with all our talk of the shapes of the clouds beyond the branches?"

She pointed her finger nearly directly upwards, but Jack didn't bother to look, instead cupping his hands at her cheeks and bending close to press his lips to hers. She tasted of good strong English tea, and returned his affections with obvious delight.

**Author's Note:**

> And I've just realized that the entire idea for this story is likely based on my desire to refute a horribly depressing German language film I was forced to watch during college. That film's plot was basically: Guy has nothing and is alone and depressed in the middle of WWII; guy gets treasure, girl and motorcycle; guy loses treasure, girl and motorcycle and is alone, depressed, and getting rained/snowed on in the middle of WWII. My German prof was a real hoot for forcing us to watch stuff like that, lemme tell ya... Das Boot was a real pick-me-up during midterms. It's either that, or the entire idea of this story is based on my desire to research WWII-era Coleman stoves. *shakes head at self* 1941 is just a touch early for the G-I Pocket Stoves to be appearing in Europe; they were much more common there by the end of 1942, but I figure with Jack's charm and connections and um, willingess to dance, he'd've been able to get his hands on one of the earliest ones to arrive in England.


End file.
